The Doctor and the Virgin
by cinammonsticks
Summary: Sherlock is frustrated at his lack of knowledge in the sex department. He turns to John for practical advice. Takes place after ASiB. John/Sherlock. Rated M for lemony stuff.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **The Doctor and the Virgin

**Pairing: **Sherlock/John

**Rating:** M, for lemony stuff

**A/N: **Right, I thought I'd give this little storyline a stab because the amount of Johnlock in ASiB was astounding, pair it with Sherlock's new-found virginity and this is what you get …

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Sherlock. If I did, John and Sherlock would be married by now.

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><p>It was eight o'clock by the time John returned to the flat from his evening Tesco's run. "Sorry," he said as he came in, "got held up by the tube, damn strikes."<p>

He dumped the plastic bags on the table and began unloading them into the fridge, "Ugh, Sherlock, what is this?" he asked, picking out a jam jar from the shelf, it contained a murky grey-green substance flecked with black spots. "Sherlock?"

Sherlock remained sitting in the arm chair, hands together resting lightly on his lips as if he were praying. His black suit and pale grey eyes gave him a sinister air but the expression on his face was pensive and saturnine.

"Sherlock?" John repeated cautiously.

Sherlock did not reply, but mouthed a word that John could not make out.

"New puzzle, is it? Another one already? We only just finished with the last one. I haven't started the write-up for my blog. I was thinking I might title it _The Coventry Kerfuffle_ but that sounds a bit light." He gave a shallow laugh, "Queen Mycroft wouldn't approve … nor would the Queen come to think of it, because apparently she reads my blog … God, isn't that a thought …"

Sherlock frowned to himself, but remained as still as ever.

"Come on, Sherlock, you know you find it helpful to dictate your thinking when you're having difficulty. If you can't solve it, you'll make my life miserable too, I know it."

"Yes, John, there is a puzzle, but it's not a nice one like a crime or a murder. It's still a mystery though, even to me."

"Is it a person?"

"Irene Adler …"

John sighed, the mention of that name boded ill for Sherlock.

"She's gone Sher-"

"- Irene Adler said that Moriarty referred to me as 'the virgin'." Sherlock finished.

"Yes," said John cautiously, not sure where this was going.

"After all Moriarty has watched me do, all the mysteries he had me solve, the challenges I completed, I'm still just 'the virgin'."

John stood still and silent by the table, his features frozen. Slowly, he said, "So the puzzle is you. You're the puzzle?"

"In a way, yes." Said Sherlock, rising to his feet quickly and beginning to pace round the small room with and angry temperament.

John sat in the opposite arm chair, watching Sherlock.

"What difference could it make? What is it? I know about it, that's enough, isn't it? It's just sex. I just thought it was weak, giving in to base human instincts, not for me. Why should my virginity downgrade me_? I don't understand it, and it is so frustrating_!"

Despite the fact that he should be happy that Sherlock was owning up to ignorance for once, John shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Unlike the sociopath, he was more socially sensitive to certain subjects and did not really want to have this conversation. Sherlock was ranting, and totally oblivious to John's discomfort.

"I mean, why is it important?" he demanded furiously, "It's such a primal thing! I would prefer to exist only in the mind. The mind, John, that is where I find my thrills." Sherlock stopped pacing and turned to the doctor. He bowed forward resting his hands on the arms of John's chair, looking into his eyes, their faces inches away from each other.

"Um," started John, unable to look away from the penetrating silver eyes that stared so deeply into his, searching for an answer, "Well, it's just sex. You do it for fun … or with someone you love."

"But what does it _feel_ like, John, how does it _change_ you?" searched Sherlock, his hot breath blowing into John's face, smelling of sharp mint.

"Well … uh … good. I can't explain, but when you love the person, it's … well, very good," supplied John uselessly.

Sherlock gave a petulant look demanding more information, John still proved inadequate: "It's not something you can explain, you have to do it for yourself."

Sherlock paused, still staring into the doctor's face. John was becoming all too aware of Sherlock's hot breath on his face, his staring eyes, his arms that trapped him in the chair, his slim body hovering above his own, the heat of his body spilling out, his heart beating against the thin black shirt that he never buttoned to his neck.

"If you can't tell me then, you'll have to show me" said Sherlock simply, shaking off his jacket.

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><p><strong>AN: **Tell me what you thought, pretty please? Do you want more? I want to know what you think and if I should continue. Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Well, I'll start by saying OH MY GOD THANK YOU for all the reviews and favourites etc. I published that in one evening and the next morning my emails were positively flooded with notifications. I don't think anything could have made me feel more loved. Thank you!

So, here's the continuation, focusing slightly more on John's reaction. Remember to tell me what you think …

* * *

><p>"If you can't tell me then, you'll have to show me," said Sherlock simply, shaking off his jacket.<p>

John gasped, laughed and spluttered all at the same time, "I'm sorry – wh – I beg your pardon?"

Sherlock tossed his jacket behind him and started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Woah, woah! Stop right there!" John exclaimed, standing.

"Just show me John, I need to know," Sherlock dropped his hands to his sides.

"Okay, okay, let me think. Sit down," miraculously, Sherlock obeyed, "and button your shirt up again, it's distracting me."

"Distracting you?" asked Sherlock with a seductive smile.

"No – well – oh my God, shut up." John took a deep breath and sat down again, relieved at the distance between the chairs. Sherlock's proximity set his nerves alight and he couldn't think straight. "Right, You want to have sex with me … to lose your virginity to me … so you can understand what it feels like?"

"That's right," said Sherlock rationally.

"Wow. Okay," John was taken aback by his calmness.

"You don't want to? Aren't you attracted to me?"

"What? Of cour – no – well." John once again lost his ability to articulate. Again, he took a deep breath, "Do you think I'm attracted to you?"

"Yes. You love me," said Sherlock evenly.

John spluttered again, "I – you – what?"

"It's not hard to see. I didn't mind because I thought I was incapable of something as base as love. Maybe I was wrong … or right. Maybe sex will answer my questions. It could solve my puzzle … of me."

"I love you?" repeated John faintly.

"Again, I could be wrong, I only know the chemical side of emotions, at the least I know you're attracted to me. The way your heart quickens, your pupils dilate, you smile, you watch me so carefully, your breath hitches when I come close. They are signs I could be much better at understanding if I were attune to my own feelings too."

Sherlock described this in such a sincere tone while John was in turmoil inside. He couldn't deny any of these things. Yet he knew he wasn't gay. He had had girlfriends and it had never felt wrong, so that meant he wasn't gay, right? But he had always been drawn to Sherlock, almost magnetically, so how could this be? _Maybe I'm bi_ said a small voice in his head. It could make sense. And the best way to understand his own feelings as well as Sherlock's? To do just as Sherlock suggested, as always.

"Okay," he said nervously, as if he had forgotten that he had fought in Afghanistan, he thought this to be the most frightening thing he had ever done.

"Excellent," said Sherlock, bouncing to his feet and standing there expectantly. After John remained unmoved for a few seconds, he spoke up again, "Show me then!"

"Oh right, yeah." said John, and realising he had to take the lead for the first time, he stood.

He crossed the gap between them tentatively, they were standing centimetres apart. John's heart quickened, his breath hitched, just like Sherlock had said. Sherlock smiled knowingly. Slowly, John brought his hand up to Sherlock's cheek, his rough thumbs framing the high cheekbones of Sherlock's curious face. Sherlock watched expectantly like a dog waiting to learn a new trick.

_Just do it_ John himself and pulled Sherlock's face down until their lips found each other. Sherlock breathed in sharply – his first sign of experiencing something new – and then John started to kiss him. Slowly and hesitantly he kissed more and more, pressing Sherlock's lip with his tongue, asking entry. Sherlock opened his mouth slightly and John pushed his way in, using his other hand to pull Sherlock's face closer. With the first hint of uncertainty John had ever known in the man, Sherlock began to kiss him back, allowing their tongues to meet, tracing John's lips, exploring his mouth, revelling in his warmth. Gently, Sherlock wound his arms around John, closing the gap between them as they kissed with more and more vigour.

Suddenly John pulled his head away, Sherlock let out a noise of disappointment. "Is this alright? This is okay?"

"Mm, mm," murmured Sherlock, pushing forward again.

And funnily enough, it was. It was more than alright, it was good, wonderful, even _delicious_. Sherlock made small noises that weren't words – maybe the first time he'd ever been totally inarticulate. Suddenly he was no longer so alien, he was more human, touchable and sensual. He tasted perfectly luscious, John couldn't keep from eliciting small moans as their bodies pressed tightly together and Sherlock's hands played across his back. Desire ripped through his body like fire, setting his nerves alight, he couldn't get enough of it.

John removed his hands from Sherlock and the man mumbled a "No."

"No – just – get my – shirt – off," said John struggling slightly.

"Oh," said Sherlock, hurriedly helping him unbutton the shirt without breaking their contact.

As soon as it was off he chucked it carelessly behind him. Sherlock was enthusiastic to turn his full attention to kissing him again but John stopped him, "You need – yours off – too," he prompted.

"Ah," he said, hastily scrabbling at the buttons of his fine black shirt, throwing it back in a crumpled heap.

They crushed into the kiss more and more passionately. John's bare, musular chest pressed against Sherlock's own slim one and he could feel his heart. It had quickened, pounding against John's own. John twisted his hands in Sherlock's dark curls and Sherlock groaned in satisfaction. John couldn't think of anything but how _good_ it felt. Uninstructed by John, Sherlock's hands slipped down to firmly hold his bum, tugging him tightly closer. John smiled, "So you do know something?"

"Your laptop proved most informative."

"You have your own computer, you know"

"I will still confiscate yours when I please."

"Oh do shut up, Sherlock." said John, pressing closer and closer. He felt his trousers become uncomfortably tight and his groin throbbed. The obstructing clothing was pulled taught. He grinded his hips up on Sherlock, torturing himself with desire.

"Oh God!" exclaimed Sherlock in shock.

"What? What?"

"My penis, oh wow..."

John glanced down to see Sherlock's hardness pressing against his suit trousers. "That's normal, Sherlock." he coached.

"I know - but it's strange feeling it myself. I'm so ... wired? So ... excited?"

"The phrase you're looking for is 'turned on'," grinned the doctor.

"Mm, it's good ... more, more" he demanded, losinng himself in his senses, leaving his analytical scientist's personality behind.

As they kissed feverishly, hands exploring, it occurred to John that until now, Sherlock had cut himself off from human instincts almost entirely. This must be truly a whole new world to him, even a mere erection had elicited shock in the man.

"Do you think we should take this ... elsewhere?"

"What?"

"Bedroom, Sherlock" said John.

"Oh, right," for once in unfamiliar territory.

They moved towards Sherlock's room, while kissing passionately. Sherlock was becoming more and more confident, his tongue dancing in a fight for dominion. John's hands found their way to the other man's belt and fumbled with the buckle, undoing it with clumsy hands. Sherlock smartly whipped out John's belt with a sound like a lash that made John chuckle deeply. When they reached the bed, John pushed Sherlock against the foot until he fell backwards.

"Move up," he told him. As Sherlock did so, John quickly shook off his trousers so he was down to his boxers. Sherlock lay on the bed expectantly, waiting.

John cautiously moved up Sherlock's body, gently tracing the planes of his smooth chest as he reached the same level. He marvelled at Sherlock's strange beauty, the marble-like skin and slim frame, his tousled curls like a black halo around his pale face.

Sherlock had no such limitations of being tender and grabbed John's face, tugging him fiercely down on top.

"Oof!" exclaimed John in surprise, "Sherlock..."

"Sorry," he said carelessly, with no heartfelt remorse; he was too carried away, rubbing every part of himself on John, the friction driving them both wild, burning skin that ached to be touched.

John moved down, hooking his fingers through Sherlock's trousers and he slowly slid them off. Sherlock's erection was obstructed only by his loose boxers now and when John touched it so gently, Sherlock gasped out in surprise and pleasure.

Enjoying having the upper hand for the first time in their relationship, John took control, stroking at Sherlock's throbbing groin with increasing pressure. "Oh God! Get - pants - off!" shouted Sherlock, wriggling in frustration.

John chuckled, "Oh no, not yet" he said teasingly. He wanted to draw the build-up out because he enjoyed seeing the shocking change in the would-be cold sociopath. He was suddenly more feral, more physical. He was slave to his desires and his intellect had lost control. He was a different man.

"John Watson," he growled, "do not try to control me, it will never work." – _well, maybe not completely different_.

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><p><strong>AN:** I'm so sorry to cut it there but I have just discovered I am physically incapable of writing the rest of this seen. I'm hiding from my laptop, whimpering in awkwardness. You may have to give me a bit to build up to it and research and stuff.

I still want your reviews! Do you still want more All thoughts welcome ;)

A/N: Well, I'll start by saying OH MY GOD THANK YOU for all the reviews and favourites etc. I published that in one evening and the next morning my emails were positively flooded with notifications. I don't think anything could have made me feel more loved. Thank you!

So, here's the continuation, focusing slightly more on John's reaction. Remember to tell me what you think …

* * *

><p>"If you can't tell me then, you'll have to show me" said Sherlock simply, shaking off his jacket.<p>

John gasped, laughed and spluttered all at the same time, "I'm sorry – wh – I beg your pardon?"

Sherlock tossed his jacket behind him and started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Woah, woah! Stop right there!" John exclaimed, standing.

"Just show me John, I need to know." said Sherlock, dropping his hands to his sides.

"Okay, okay, let me think. Sit down," miraculously, Sherlock obeyed, "and button your shirt up again, it's distracting me."

"Distracting you?" asked Sherlock with a seductive smile.

"No – well – oh my God, shut up." John took a deep breath and sat down again, relieved at the distance between the chairs. "Right, You want to have sex with me … to lose your virginity to me … so you can understand what it feels like?"

"That's right," said Sherlock rationally.

"Wow. Okay." said John, taken aback by his calmness.

"You don't want to? Aren't you attracted to me?"

"What? Of cour – no – well." John once again lost his ability to articulate. Again, he took a deep breath, "Do you think I'm attracted to you?"

"Yes. You love me." said Sherlock evenly.

John spluttered again, "I – you – what?"

"It's not hard to see. I didn't mind because I thought I was incapable of something as base as love. Maybe I was wrong … or right. Maybe sex will answer my questions. It could solve my puzzle … of me."

"I love you?" asked John faintly.

"Again, I could be wrong, I only know the chemical side of emotions, at the least I know you're attracted to me. The way your heart quickens, your pupils dilate, you smile, you watch me so carefully, your breath hitches when I come close. They are signs I could be much better at understanding if I were attune to my own feelings too."

Sherlock described this in such a sincere tone while John was in turmoil inside. He couldn't deny any of these things. Yet he knew he wasn't gay. He had had girlfriends and it had never felt wrong, so that meant he wasn't gay, right? But he had always been drawn to Sherlock, almost magnetically, so how could this be? Maybe I'm bi said a small voice in his head. It could make sense. And the best way to understand his own feelings as well as Sherlock's? To do just as Sherlock suggested, as always.

"Okay," he said nervously, as if he had forgotten that he had fought in Afghanistan, he thought this to be the most frightening thing he had ever done.

"Excellent," said Sherlock, bouncing to his feet and standing there expectantly. After John remained unmoved for a few seconds, he spoke up again, "Show me then!"

"Oh right, yeah." said John, realising he had to take the lead for the first time, he stood.

He crossed the gap between them tentatively, they were standing centimetres apart. John's heart quickened, his breath hitched, just like Sherlock had said. Sherlock smiled knowingly. Slowly, John brought his hand up to Sherlock's cheek, his rough thumbs framing the high cheekbones of Sherlock's curious face. Sherlock watched expectantly like a dog waiting to learn a new trick.

Just do it John himself and pulled Sherlock's face down until their lips found each other. Sherlock breathed in sharply – his first sign of finding something new – and then John started to kiss him. Slowly and hesitantly he kissed more and more, pressing Sherlock's lip with his tongue, asking entry. Sherlock opened his mouth slightly and John pushed his way in, using his other hand to pull Sherlock's face closer. With the first hint of uncertainty John had ever known in the man, Sherlock began to kiss him back, allowing their tongues to meet, tracing John's lips, exploring his mouth, revelling in his warmth. Gently, Sherlock wound his arms around John, closing the gap between them as they kissed with more and more vigour.

Suddenly John pulled his head away, Sherlock let out a noise of disappointment. "Is this alright? This is okay?"

"Mm, mm," murmured Sherlock, pushing forward again.

And funnily enough, it was. It was more than alright, it was good, wonderful, even delicious. Sherlock made small noises that weren't words – maybe the first time he'd ever been totally inarticulate. Suddenly he was no longer so alien, he was more human, touchable and sensual. He tasted so luscious, John couldn't keep from eliciting small moans as their bodies pressed tightly together and Sherlock's hands played across his back. Desire ripped through his body like fire, setting his nerves alight, he couldn't get enough of it.

John removed his hands from Sherlock and the man mumbled a "No."

"No – just – get my – shirt – off," said John struggling slightly.

"Oh," said Sherlock, hurriedly helping him unbutton the shirt without breaking their contact.

As soon as it was off he chucked it carelessly behind him. Sherlock was enthusiastic to turn his full attention to kissing him again but John stopped him, "You need – yours off – too," he prompted.

"Ah," he said, hastily scrabbling at the buttons of his fine black shirt, throwing it back in a crumpled heap.

They crushed into the kiss more and more passionately. John's bare, musular chest pressed against Sherlock's own slim one and he could feel his heart. It had quickened, pounding against John's own. John twisted his hands in Sherlock's dark curls and Sherlock groaned in satisfaction. John couldn't think of anything but how good it felt. Uninstructed by John, Sherlock's hands slipped down to firmly hold his bum, tugging him tightly closer. John smiled, "So you do know something?"

"Your laptop proved most informative."

"You have your own computer, you know"

"I will still confiscate yours when I please."

"Oh do shut up, Sherlock." said John, pressing closer and closer. He felt his trousers become uncomfortably tight and his groin throbbed. The obstructing clothing was pulled taught. He grinded his hips up on Sherlock, torturing himself with desire.

"Oh God!" exclaimed Sherlock in shock.

"What? What?"

"My penis, oh wow..."

John glanced down to see Sherlock's hardness pressing against his suit trousers. "That's normal, Sherlock." he coached.

"To be so ... wired? So ... excited?"

"The phrase you're looking for is 'turned on,'" grinned the doctor.

"Mm, it's good ... more, more" he demanded.

As they kissed feverishly, hands exploring, it occurred to John that until now, Sherlock had cut himself off from human instincts almost entirely. This must be truly a whole new world to him, even a mere erection had elicited shock in the man.

"Do you think we should take this ... elsewhere?"

"What?"

"Bedroom, Sherlock" said John.

"Oh, right".

They moved towards Sherlock's room, while simultaneously kissing passionately. Sherlock was becoming more and more confident, his tongue dancing in a fight for dominion. John's hands found their way to the other man's belt and fumbled with the buckle, undoing it with clumsy hands. Sherlock smartly whipped out John's belt with a sound like a lash. When they reached the bed, John pushed Sherlock against the foot until he fell backwards.

"Move up" he told him. As Sherlock did so, John quickly shook off his trousers so he was down to his boxers. Sherlock lay on the bed expectantly, waiting.

John cautiously moved up Sherlock's body, gently tracing the planes of his smooth chest as he reached the same level. He marvelled at Sherlock's strange beauty, the marble-like skin and slim frame, his tousled curls like a black halo around his pale face.

Sherlock had no such limitations of being tender and grabbed John's face, tugging him fiercely down on top.

"Oof!" exclaimed John in surprise, "Sherlock..."

"Sorry" he said carelessly, with no heartfelt remorse; he was too carried away, rubbing every part of himself on John, the friction driving him wild.

John moved down, hooking his fingers through Sherlock's trousers and he slowly slid them off. Sherlock's erection was obstructed only by his loose boxers now and when John touched it so gently, Sherlock gasped out in surprise and pleasure.

Enjoying having the upper hand for the first time in their relationship, John took control, stroking at Sherlock's throbbing groin with increasing pressure. "Oh God! Get - pants - off!" shouted Sherlock, wriggling in frustration.

John chuckled, "Oh no, not yet" he said teasingly. He wanted to draw the build-up out because he enjoyed seeing the shocking change in the would-be cold sociopath. He was suddenly more feral, more physical. He was slave to his desires and his intellect had lost control. He was a different man.

"John Watson," he growled, "do not try to control me, it will never work." – well, maybe not completely different.

* * *

><p>AN: I'm so sorry to cut it there but I have just discovered I am physically incapable of writing the rest of this seen. I'm hiding from my laptop, whimpering in awkwardness. You may have to give me a bit to build up to it and research and stuff..

I still want your reviews! Do you still want more? I think there's room for more real story too. All thoughts welcome. ;)


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